


hockey ficlets

by girlmarauders



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blood Pacts, Cup Wishes, M/M, Magical Realism, Monsters, Psychic Bond, wishbaby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 06:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16927896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlmarauders/pseuds/girlmarauders
Summary: Hockey ficlets, pairings are in the chapter titles





	1. Nate/Tyson accidental psychic bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate/Tyson with accidental psychic bonding, written for [frecklebombfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklebomb/pseuds/frecklebombfic)

Nate didn’t realise Tyson was sharing his thoughts until he starting literally verbalising his thoughts to reporters.

Tyson’s doing the scrum, a little sweaty from the game but still looking good, answering questions about the game. Someone, Nate doesn’t catch their name, asks if Tyson thinks he’s the best, and he’s just thinking to himself “ _pssh no one’s better than me_ ” when Tyson says “pssh, no one’s better than Nate.”

The scrum ends and the reporters filter out. Nate scoots over on the bench to be next to Tyson.

“You’re in my head,” he says, a bit annoyed. He hasn’t bonded with anyone since Johnny, and he wasn’t expecting it to happen by accident.

Tyson runs a towel over his head.

“Thanks Mack, I try,” he says sarcastically, muffled by the towel, and Nate shoves him so he moves in his stall.

“No, asshole,” he says, and then thinks _you’re in my head_ as loudly as he can. Tyson winces.

“Ouch, ow, jeez, I get it, you don’t have to shout,” he says. Nate frowns at him.

“Did you do this on purpose?” he asks. Tyson makes a face.

“No, god, it was not on purpose. I don’t need anyone else’s thoughts but mine,” he says, and Nate focuses and reaches out, trying to touch Tyson’s thoughts inside his head. It’s been a while since he’s had to do this. It was always easy with Johnny.

“Coach’ll be happy,” Nate says absently, as he feels for Tyson’s thoughts. He can can feel just the edge of them, tired and hungry, a little perturbed by the sudden bond. The feeling of being tired gets a bit more intense.

“Oh great,” Tyson says, “more powerplay time, just what I wanted.”

Nate pushes him again.

“Don’t complain. You’ll score more with me,” he says.

&&&

He doesn’t really think about it on the way home, since Tyson’s thoughts pull back with the distance and the tiredness. He can feel Tyson at the edge of his thoughts all the way through eating his post-game meal, not the specifics but the general stuff, Tyson’s happiness to be home, his relief getting into bed.

He’s trying to sleep, his face buried deep in his pillow, when Tyson’s thoughts come screeching loudly into his. One second he’s half-asleep, thinking happily about his goal in the third, and the next second he’s hot all over and hard, desperately close to orgasm. He thinks he pulled something he’s never gotten hard that fast.

 _What are you DOING_ he thinks as loudly as he can, mentally shoving back at the loud, intense intrusion.

 _Shit shit shit fuck_ is all Tyson thinks back at him which is not an answer.

 _Are you jerking off oh my god_ he thinks, poking at Tyson’s presence in his head. _Go the fuck to sleep_

 _I was TRYING_ Tyson thinks back, annoyed, but there’s still the throbbing, sexual feeling at the back of his mind. Nate sighs, huffing air into his pillow. He’s still hard, his body reacting to the second-hand feelings. He’s not gonna sleep for ages now.

 _Well we might as well_ Nate thinks and ignores Tyson’s thought of _wait what_ and wraps his hand around his dick. He doesn’t push his feelings at Tyson but he doesn’t try to hold them back either, just grips himself tightly, the way he likes, and starts jerking off, rocking his hips into his hand. God, he’d forgotten how good it felt to jerk off into the bond, the feeling of someone else being turned on right inside your head, the shimmering feeling of pleasure.

 _fine then i guess_ Tyson thinks, which isn't exactly an invitation but it's not no, and then the feeling of arousal picks up from the other side, pulsing. Nate groans, and squeezes even tighter as it feels like his whole body contracts and he comes into his hand.

 _cmon cmon_ he thinks at Tyson, and then feels the moment he comes, the sudden release of pressure. It's like a second, gentler orgasm moving through his body, wiping him clean.

 _now sleep_ he thinks, and wipes his hand on the side of the mattress, where he doesn't have to look at the stain. Tyson doesn't think anything with words, just a fond tendril of emotion reaching out to him as they both fall asleep


	2. Tyler/Radulov monster blood pacts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [Magical Realism Prompt Fest](https://girlmarauders.dreamwidth.org/27678.html) on my dreamwidth for the prompt [[She called me history's greatest monster? Really? You tell her I am history's handsomest monster.]](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=425)

"No way jose, I am not doing that," Tyler said. Rads rolled his eyes.

"Yes, do, c'mon," Rads said, gesturing with the knife as if saying it again could make Tyler do something stupid. He was responsible now. "It's good," Rads said, entirely unconvincingly.

The cut he had made at his thumb was bleeding, and a little track of it had run down his thumb to his wrist, leaving a red line behind. Tyler watched it go and licked his lips. Everyone kept telling him _oh Tyler be careful Radulov's a monster_ but whatever so was a whole bunch of the league and Tyler had only gotten a little eaten that one time, and it had all turned out to be a big misunderstanding anyway. He could look after himself.

"Are you sure it's fine? You're not going to eat me for my good looks?" He asked. Rads turned the knife so the handle was pointing at Tyler.

"You are very ugly," he said seriously, which made Tyler laugh.

"Fuck you, you should be nicer to me. I am _very_ nice to you." Tyler said, but took the knife. Rads smiled, exposing his gums. He hadn't even made an effort to put the fake teeth in for coming over to Tyler's house. Whatever. Tyler wasn't about to become that guy who worried about whether his hookups were making effort. The knife had a wooden handle, worn smooth by however many hundreds of years Rads had been wandering the Earth menacing people. Tyler hefted it a little, to feel his fingers around it, and then took a deep breath and turned the blade on his own thumb.

For all the running around and bashing into things, he was kind of a wimp about pain. He hated injections, and he always complained all the way through sports massages which hurt like hell. He didn't think he was cut out for this blood bond thing, but Rads had asked him, when he could have easily asked Val instead, or even Spez who would have just said yes and not complained at all. He clenched his teeth, and cut down, which hurt fuck until he saw the blood well up.

"Okay, okay," Rads said, and took his hand, and the knife away. "It's okay," he said. Tylers teeth were still clenched.

"It hurts," he said, which sounded kind of whiny, but it did hurt.

"Here, taste, it's not hurt," Rads said, and lifted up his bleeding hand to Tyler's mouth.

"Ew," he said, but licked like he was supposed to when Rads shoved his hand at him again. It tasted like blood, nothing Tyler hadn't tasted before, and then Rads put Tyler's thumb in his mouth and everything took an unexpected left turn. He knew they were on his sofa in his living room, and he could pretty clearly see that but he cared about it exactly 0%. A powerful, hair-raising chill ran up his body, like watching Jamie beat the crap out of somebody, or the feeling of getting fucked, or when you felt a puck leave your stick absolutely perfectly. There were goosebumps on his arms. Locked up in the kitchen, Gerry and Marshall both whined loudly.

"Mmhm," he said, around Rads thumb, and that spat it out. "That felt _awesome_."

Without missing a beat, Rads curled his tongue around the end of Tyler's finger, catching the last drops of his blood. It was a little longer than normal.

"Hey, you've got all your teeth now," Tyler said, noticing, and Rads pulled back to smile, with a mouth full of perfectly sharp, extremely pointy white teeth.

"That what you notice?" Rads said, and Tyler really did not care at all because he felt ready to go and he was in his monster hookup's lap. Who cared if Rads had different eyes now and a lot more teeth and tail. His dick still worked.

"Wait, your dick still works like this right?" he asked, and Rads grabbed him by the back of the neck.

"Shut up now," he said, and pulled him into a kiss that still tasted of blood.


	3. Jamie/Tyler wishbaby future fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie/Tyler wishbaby written for the [Magical Realism Prompt Fest](https://girlmarauders.dreamwidth.org/27678.html) on my dreamwidth for [seascribe's wishbaby prompt](https://girlmarauders.dreamwidth.org/27678.html?thread=17694#cmt17694)

Everyone had told Jamie to be careful what he thought about when he touched the cup (which had not happened yet, for all their efforts), but no one had told him squat about the Campbell Bowl. It wasn't even called a trophy! He'd thought he was safe, and hadn't been able to hold himself back from wishing, from the tight desire that had curled in his chest and made a home. Clinging to the trophy, he looked at his team and Tyler. God, he wanted. He wanted it all, the cup and victory, more time, more chances. He had a little while, but he had missed six weeks this year, and would probably never play a complete season again. He wanted-- when they gave him the trophy, he looked at Tyler, smiling at him and he had known he wanted Tyler, but the sheer force of it, the sudden desperation, was a surprise. He wanted Tyler to stay, to stay in Dallas with Jamie, and he wanted Tyler to love him. They'd won the Conference. He was tired of waiting.

It was the most overwhelming thought he'd ever had, like someone shouting in his ear. He wanted it all.

He had to let go of the trophy eventually, and pass it around, and everyone else was excited, drinking, and partying. He drank and cheered, and Tyler stripped down to just a pair of shorts, half-naked in the change room and drenched in beer.

He took the two days they had before the first game to think about it, in his empty house replying to texts congratulating him. Tyler came over for dinner and brought the dogs, and Jamie watched him wrestle them in the backyard while Jamie grilled steaks. Perhaps it was age that brought this clear-eyed certainty, because he’d never felt so sure, not ever. Tyler paused mid-wrestle, holding Gerry around the neck.

“What? You alright man?” he asked, smiling. Jamie shook himself and nodded.

“Yeah it’s nothing,” he said, and Tyler shrugged.

Being sure was one thing, but doing something about it was something else entirely.

They won one game, at home, and then lost 4, one after the other. Jamie surprised himself by not feeling bad about it hardly at all. They had come closer to the cup then he had thought possible. A few years ago, in a fit of brutal honesty with himself, he had come to peace with playing his whole career in Dallas, the captain of a team fighting just to be taken seriously. Getting this far was proving them all wrong.

He went back to Vic for the summer, and did what he always did: hung out with Jenny and the babies, who weren’t really babies any more, and went hiking with Jordie, and waited for Tyler’s annual visit. Jordie watched him wait, and made fun of him, and Jenny mostly just handed him a baby whenever it looked like he might be thinking too hard.

He picked Tyler up from the airport on a beautiful clear day. He had vague plans to drop their stuff at his house and take them to the water. Tyler hugged him in arrivals, his duffel still in one hand, gripping Jamie’s shoulder. He was wearing a shirt that was too small in the arms, and took his shoes off and put his feet up on Jamie’s dash on the drive across down, his whole body on display. He knew what he looked like, and Jamie licked his lips. Maybe he’d tell him today. Tyler had been flirting with him for years now. Maybe it was time for things to change.

He was concentrating on not scratching his car on the gate when Tyler leaned out the window and said “hey, is Jenny over?”

“What?” Jamie said, still focusing on his wing mirror as the end of the car slid past the gate. “No?”

Tyler wrinkled his nose.

“Well, there’s a baby carrier on your porch,” he said, and it was good the car was already in the driveway cause Jamie jammed his foot on the break.

“What?” he said, hearing the confusion in his own voice. Tyler pointed. There was a baby carrier on his porch. Jamie put the car in park and pulled off his seatbeat. It was only a couple of steps to his porch, but he could already hear baby noises coming from the carrier. Had someone left a baby outside his house? That seemed ridiculous. There was a card tied to the carrier handle, and there was a baby, pink and smiling, waving its hands. He reached out nervously to take the card, and flipped it over. It read:

_As a product of your wish, we congratulate you on the arrival of your child, Joanne Seguin-Benn_

“Tylerrr?” He called, too nervous to look over his shoulder and away from the baby.

“What? Did Jenny leave it?” Tyler said from behind him, and Jamie heard his steps on the porch stairs. “Holy crap that’s a real baby,” he said, as if Jamie hadn't already noticed. “Jamie, why did someone leave a baby here!”

Jamie turned to look at him.

“They didn't leave it Tyler, it's my baby,” he said, feeling shell-shocked. _Seguin-Benn_ the card had said.

“I don't think you can call a baby it,” Tyler said, in a normal, not-panicked tone of voice like this was normal and fine. There was a second where Jamie started to try and think of a response, and then the baby started crying.

It was literally the worst experience of Jamie's life. He'd been smacked in the face and beaten up and operated on, but the sudden piercing wailing was like a siren going off in his brain and he didn't have any idea how to turn it off.

“Oh my god,” Tyler said, and put his hands over his ears, like that was going to help. “This kid has _lungs_!”

Tyler was not helpful at all. Jamie thought about what he did with his nieces and reached into the carrier to lift the baby free. She was red in the face now, and drooling as she wailed. He used the edge of his sleeve to wipe some of the spit and snot away, which was 40% less gross than the time Tyler has sneezed on him, and tried to bounce her gently.

“Hey,” he said quietly, looking at her face. “Hey baby, it's okay.”

He rocked her back and forth gently, and it felt like forever, but it was only a minute or so until she took a breath and stopped crying, seemingly realising she was being held. Tyler had picked up the card, and looked up at Jamie quizzically.

“Hey, my name is on this too,” he said, at first looking confused, and then as if he was realising something slowly. Jamie watched the thought happen and waited, still rocking Joanne. Tyler usually couldn't hold himself back from verbalising whatever he was thinking.

“Uh,” Tyler said and then stopped. “The Campbell Cup isn't supposed to grant wishes right?”

Jamie very deliberately didn't react, just kept rocking the baby, who made a cooing sound in his ear.

“I made a wish on it,” he said, meeting Tyler's nervous gaze. “It came true.”

Tyler's fingers were crushing the edge of the baby arrival card. Jamie realised, suddenly, that his decision to tell Tyler how he felt had been made for him.

“Me too,” Tyler said, and looked at Joanne, and then at Jamie. Jamie stopped rocking.

“I can't put the baby down,” he said, his tone so reasonable for how he felt. “Tyler I need you to come here.”

Tyler reached out with one hand, and it was the baby he touched first, just gentle fingers on her back, and then touching Jamie's hand cradling her head, and then, slowly, smiling, he leaned into a kiss, like coming home.


End file.
